Page 36 of Sinfully Wed
Holly calmly instructed her ladyship’s footman that if the lad touched one more item belonging to Lord Emerson, bodily harm would be imminent. A constable would be called at the attempted thievery of a lord’s home.
“I can’t believe that witch had the nerve to enter our home and attempt to intimidate our staff. By the time I arrived, she was puffing away like an outraged hen, daring Holly to put his hands on her person. So, I escorted her out myself.” Tamsin grinned. “Shehissedat me, Jordan. Like a coiled viper.”
Lady Longwood’s loathing of the Sinclairs, referring to them continuously as theFive Deadly Sins,was bearing fruit. The gossip columns had taken note and repeated the ridiculous moniker. The decades old scandal of his parents once more made the rounds.
London would continue to be an unwelcoming place for some time.
“We Sinclairs don’t scare easily, Tamsin. Not after Dunnings. Lady Longwood will figure that out soon enough.”
A bell tinkled above his head as he and Tamsin entered the book seller’s. Nodding to the clerk at the front, Tamsin took a sharp left, heading for a tall stack of tomes at the back. “Aurora adores romantic novels. Princes. Pirates. Dashing gentlemen. I know just what will appeal to her.”
As Tamsin perused the books looking for something wholly inappropriate to gift their youngest sister, Jordan wandered down another aisle, breathing in the smell of leather and old paper. Most of the books to be found in this direction were dustier than their brethren’s. Animal husbandry, farming techniques and the like weren’t popular among those perusing the shops along Bond Street, but Jordan wanted to expand his knowledge beyond raising pigs. River Crest needed him, as well as Miss Whitehall’s enormous dowry, if the estate would be restored to its former glory. He planned on being involved, much more than many of his peers. After Dunnings, Jordan was intimately aware of what it took to create a working estate. The upkeep on a house the size of River Crest. The cost of repairs, animals, tenants. Jordan didn’t plan on spending all his time in London, caught up in the goings-on of Parliament or a continuous stream of balls and parties.
He would cede London to Miss Whitehall.
Jordan had spent some time considering what his future wife looked like beneath all the onion and tar, but decided it didn’t matter. She might become more tolerable to him, but she was still unwanted.
Picking up a book, Jordan moved to the large window along one wall where the light was better. The book had to do with sheep, a dull subject for anyone save Jordan. He leafed through it absently while watching the ebb and flow of the crowded streets outside. Pale blue skirts teased at the edge of his vision.
The book slipped from his hands, falling on his foot with a thud.
Well, I suppose that answers my questions on her disguise. Clever indeed.
Miss Odessa Whitehall looked spectacular in blue, a color more suited to her than the dull hues she’d worn on the last two occasions he’d seen her. She strode confidently about, just down the street, looking nothing like a well-rounded smelly troll.
Because she wasn’t one.
He might have convinced himself it wasn’t her, if not for the sight of Miss Maplehurst at her side. Without her aunt, Jordan might not have believed the willowy young lady speaking with such animation was his future bride. A bonnet shadowed her face, but Jordan caught sight of her unmistakable delicate features, impossible to miss now that he wasn’t distracted by a bulbous padded body. A parasol was wielded adeptly in one hand, concealment nearby should she require it. She smiled up at her aunt, showing a row of pearly teeth.
Not a rotted tooth in sight. No surprise there.
Satisfaction filled him at knowing he’d been correct. The vision of Miss Whitehall, barren of subterfuge, dispelled any remaining doubts. Her dress nipped in at tiny waist, the modest neckline displaying a nicely rounded bosom. Her hips didn’t flap about as she moved. The padding must have been extensive.
Clever Miss Whitehall.
Beautiful wasn’t the first word Jordan would use to describe her. Pretty, perhaps. But when the light hit her face, the gleam of intelligence shone in her eyes. Joy, at being in the sunshine with her aunt. Miss Whitehall was striking, glittering like a diamond on Bond Street.
Arousal swiftly curled around the front of his thighs at the sight of his future bride, and he briefly reconsidered his decision not to bed her. Even if she hadn’t been Whitehall’s daughter, Jordan still would have been drawn to her. There was an innate vivaciousness to her as she strolled about. One that spoke of a passionate nature.
The plump curve of her mouth pursed at a comment from Miss Maplehurst.
A low growl left Jordan. Not annoyance. Well, at least, notsolelythat emotion.
After another moment, Miss Maplehurst took her niece’s arm, hurrying her past a bakery to the end of the street, not once looking in the direction of the bookseller. Which was just as well, because the pair would certainly have seen him staring from the window. And Jordan had no intention of informing Miss Whitehall the ruse was up. At least not yet.
The twitching blue of her skirts garnered the attention of two passing gentlemen. Both paused to dip their hats.
Miss Whitehall ignored them.
Another sound came from Jordan’s throat. One more possessive in nature. Odessa belonged to him, unwanted or not. He forced the resentment of her to bleed back into his veins. The absolute bitterness towards her father. Miss Whitehall would be relinquished by Jordan after they were duly wed and he had her dowry. Then her mysterious lover, the gentleman who she’d gone to such trouble for, could have her. Or any gentleman in London.
But not until then.
Chapter Thirteen
“Odessa, dear. Idon’t think this wise.” Aunt Lottie held up the bowl containing the lone strawberry. “It is only pure luck your father hasn’t discovered your deception thus far. Burns was sniffing about.” The silver curls at her temple quivered as she shook her head. “The rash will be noticeable fordays.”
“Maybe not. It is onlyonestrawberry.” She held up a finger. “If you’ll recall, when I last utilized such a strategy to rid myself of unwelcome company, I ingested an entire handful. The rash at that time lasted an entire week. I imagine this will be much milder.”
